


Bound by Drabbles: an Oblivion Bound Collection

by justshyofgifted



Category: Bloodbound (Visual Novel), Nightbound (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood and Violence, Canon Divergent, Drabble Collection, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Light BDSM, Multi, NSFW, Polyamory, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2020-08-09 23:51:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20125906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justshyofgifted/pseuds/justshyofgifted
Summary: A collection of filled prompts, drabbles, and other various shorts from theOblivion Bounduniverse.Chapter 9:The InterviewNervous, broke, and way under-qualified, Nadya applies for a last-resort secretary job at the illustrious Raines Corp. But a cup of coffee before her interview might just change her life.





	1. Vulnerability

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collection of filled prompts, drabbles, and other various shorts from the _Oblivion Bound_ universe. Tags for characters and content will be added as individual pieces are. Each chapter is standalone unless specified otherwise. This collection will focus around the universe of _Bound by Destiny_, _Bound by Circumstance_, and _Bound by Choice_ and should be considered canon to the universe unless specified otherwise!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kamilah takes; that's who she is. But there's a vulnerability in asking — in giving a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A prompt fill drabble for prompt: _"Can't you stay a little longer?"_ from firesidefantasy on tumblr.
> 
> **content warnings:** brief nsfw content  
**word count:** 484  
**rating:** mature
> 
> _This work **is** to be considered part of the_ Bound by Destiny _canon._

Kamilah turns her head into Nadya’s neck. Breathes in the warmth there — makes Nadya break out in gooseflesh down her bare arms above the coverlet.

“Can’t you stay a little longer?”

There’s a vulnerability there that Nadya’s about half-sure she hallucinated. But it makes sense — asking in such a way that her face is covered; her expression unseen. Kamilah _asking _anything is surprise enough.

This is a _choice_. Kamilah’s giving her the choice to stay or go. It’s not like her boss will berate her for being late. This is the vampire’s way of delving into her thoughts — of bringing forth some sort of truth.

Nadya nuzzles her cheek against Kamilah’s head and gently pulls herself from the comfort of the bed.  


The curtain of chestnut hair obscures Kamilah’s face. She’s probably planned it that way — moves to lie back on one side of the bed like a corpse at a wake. Eyes closed, lips pursed; her question answered and heart already building back up the walls it foolishly let down.

_How can someone whose done so much be so dumb?_ Nadya watches with a half-turned smile before she ducks into the en suite. She steals an empty glass from the bar cart outside the door and grabs water from the faucet; guzzles it quickly and brings her refill back to the bedside table.

Not without a coaster — she doesn’t have a death wish.

Kamilah peeks one eye open lazily to watch Nadya crawl back in beside her. She strokes the tanned vampire’s arm and feels the muscles clench — ready to envelop her — before her willpower resists the temptation.

“May I help you?” asks Kamilah curtly.

If she won’t move then Nadya will move her, she decides. She grabs Kamilah’s arm and pulls it over herself so she can curl up closer against the sweat cooling on her flesh.

“I just wanted a drink.” She can’t hide the slight tease in her voice. “What, did you think I was leaving? Heck no.”

Silence — then Kamilah turns her head enough to look down into Nadya’s wide brown eyes.

“You were content to let me believe you were denying my request.”

“Yeah.”

“You find it amusing.”

“I mean, kinda. This is me trying to get you to lighten up a little, Kamilah.”

But Kamilah doesn’t find it as funny — that’s obvious. Still she doesn’t stop Nadya from entwining their fingers, from swinging her leg over the woman’s waist, from gently moving her hips where her orgasm is still sticky between her thighs.

Nadya watches until her lover’s eyes drift closed — allowing contentment even if it’s temporary. These are the moments where she finds Kamilah more beautiful than any.

“Hey, Kamilah?”

Her eyes stay closed. “Yes, Nadya?”

“I can stay a little longer.”

She grins at the soft huff she gets in reply and buries herself in closer. _Yeah, she can stay a little longer._


	2. Public Displays of Affection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nadya has to fly home for a long weekend. Kamilah wants her to know she'll be missed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A prompt fill drabble for prompt: _"a kiss in public"_ from knife-dragon on tumblr.
> 
> **word count:** 701  
**rating:** teen+  
**content warnings:** none
> 
> _This work is **not** to be considered part of the_ Bound by Destiny _canon._

“You will return to me.”

Another press of lips, of blunted teeth; insistent upon her neck and the claim they stake. Like with all things involving Kamilah they hover just over the edge of possession. Too far gone to be anything else but with that bittersweet hint of reality. Of knowing some things_do _last forever… and some things can’t.

“Yes. Of course. You —” a breathless laugh, “—you know I will.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

The vampire’s impossible grip hardens like lead on her hips and Nadya’s pulled back; collides with Kamilah’s body and feels the chill of her even through her fur frock. Sweet lips and the softness of Kamilah’s chin pushes aside her hair to expose more of her neck. Nadya allows her continued ravishing in supplication.

That’s what they’ve become. Kamilah takes but Nadya — Nadya holds the power. Nadya_allows _it. She has every chance and opportunity to pull back but she doesn’t and that’s possibly one of Kamilah’s favorite things about her.

Definitely in the top five. Top six if her breasts count as separate entities.

_“Kamilah…”_ She lets out a keening whine. Starkly aware of where they are even if her lover isn’t.

“That is not what I wish of you.”

“Well I’d wish you wouldn’t do this in the middle of the airport gate but here we are.”

Kamilah’s head snaps up. Her eyes, dark and dangerous, flitting around the terminal to catch each onlooker and their stare one by one. Like flies in a trap they suddenly look away; immersed in their phones, in conversation, in the muted news with incorrect subtitles. Anything other than the borderline lewd display of Kamilah’s affection that she couldn’t tone down if she tried; or if Nadya wanted her to.

She doesn’t, for the record. She’s just not used to such… _open affection._

Kamilah rounds Nadya in her grasp and snakes her arms around soft human hips. And because Nadya _does _know her pseudo-girlfriend-they’re-not-using-labels-yet-Kamilah-was-around-before-labels-anyway… she knows that tug on her lips is Kamilah’s stalwart self resisting a smile when she locks her fingers together behind Kamilah’s head.

Stands up on her tippy tip-toes and presses the sweetest of insistent kisses to the vampiress’ lips.

“I’m just going back for a long weekend. You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

To her surprise Kamilah actually looks _offended._ “I worry not for myself, but for poor Gerard. He’ll miss your company.”

“Then spoon _him _when you nap.”

The very thought makes Nadya burst into laughter. Makes Kamilah grimace at the flash of visualization and shake her head. “No thank you.”

The stewardess’ voice comes back on the overhead: _“Priority boarding for flight one-zero-nine from LaGuardia to Denver will now begin. I repeat, priority boarding will now begin.”_

Nadya pulls away — of course Kamilah insisted on upgrading her seat when she dared leave her laptop unattended — but not before one final pecking kiss.

“See you.”

Kamilah is silent, so Nadya tries again; this time with an exasperated smile. “I’ll _return _to you, Kamilah. I promise. Pinky promise, even.”

She laughs as the woman’s face scrunches up in confusion; that same little crinkle at the bridge of her nose she gets when Nadya tries to explain the plot of the_ Edgewater Estate_Christmas Special. It’s one of her favorite little ‘looks’ Kamilah has.

“I still don’t see why a promise on the smallest finger is somehow more important than —”

“I’ll explain it when I’m back. ‘Cause I’m coming back.”

There’s a pause as Kamilah sighs before extricating them from one another. “You had better. Safe journeys, Nadya.”

“Love you too, Kamilah.”

She keeps stealing glances back and Kamilah’s always there. Does so until she has to board and even in her seat she cranes her head to look through the plane windows; to try and catch a glimpse of her back at the terminal. But even if she can’t see her, Nadya knows she’s there. Knows she’s there all the way down the tarmac and even when her stomach lurches as they pull into the air.

Kamilah’s always there. She’ll always be there.


	3. In the Spirit of Competition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the end of a dinner party, someone suggests a card game. Lily only has one deck on-hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A prompt fill drabble for prompt: _"I love you and all, but that doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass in this game of Uno."_ from re-writing-h on tumblr.
> 
> **content warnings**: alcohol  
**word count**: 1,161  
**rating**: general
> 
> _This work is **not** to be considered part of the_ Bound by Destiny _canon._

The wine cork pops up with ease and Kamilah begins to pour — each glass with the perfect amount and she’s not even trying. Only when Kamilah’s trademark smirk appears does Nadya realize she’s staring. Not that it makes her stop.

She’s allowed to stare now and _yes, she very much will take advantage of it thank you. _

With a longing glance at the charcuterie board and it’s many cheesy delights she takes the silver tray of wine glasses and brings it into the dining room. 

“Lily, _mi amor_, have you found them yet?” Maricruz calls, looks ready to stand and go help her girlfriend when Lily’s voice echoes through the minimalist condo.

“I _know _I packed the little shits! Just gimme a min’!”

Nadya has to wave her hand to force Adrian to stay sitting down — accepts him at the very least reaching out to help hand out the glasses to their guests. Jax accepts his with a polite nod of thanks but the hesitation in his eyes is clear. 

She passes by him and whispers in his ear; “Don’t make a thing of it. You’re fine.”

Though he doesn’t say anything back the thanks is in his shoulders and in the tension releasing from his jaw. 

As Kamilah joins them all with the meat and cheese platter in both hands Nadya resumes her seat; Adrian on her right and Kamilah at the head of the table on her left.

Kamilah delicately slices into a ball of French cheese covered with slivered almonds. “Have we decided what we’re playing?”

“Maricruz and I were just discussing that,” Adrian gestures to the woman across from him, “as it turns out we both played the same variation of gin rummy during the war.”

“Uh, which one?” Nadya raises her hand. 

Mari winks. “The first one, sweets.”

Somehow Kamilah manages to make even sampling fancy bread and cheese look attractive; a skill Nadya finds herself both jealous of and happy to admire. Underneath the table she reaches over and taps the tips of her nails over Kamilah’s pantsuit leg. She remains poised.

“It’s been a while since I’ve played a rummy. Very well.”

“Is there a crutch for new players?”

“Of course not, dearest.”

Jax leans back in his chair with wine in hand. “I think I’ll just watch the first one then.”

“Maybe you both should.” Adrian looks between him and Nadya. She snorts a laugh.

“Go big or go home, right?” But she definitely places the flat heat of her palm on her lover’s thigh — inches it higher, higher, _higher _because maybe what she lacks in knowledge of the game she could make up for with Kamilah’s pity and a promise of seduction.

Because dinner took up all of the idle chit-chat and conversational topics Nadya had color-coded for them — a work day well-spent no matter _what _Adrian said — the _awkward _levels in the air are dangerously close to suffocating the longer Lily takes.

Mari’s even half out of her seat before her girlfriend finally reappears. 

Nadya’s ‘Lily Senses’ immediately go haywire. 

“What’s up, Lil’?” Then, with suspicion; “I don’t trust that grin.”

“So I may or may not have forgotten to pack the diamond deck.”

Kamilah isn’t amused. “Which is it? Did you, or did you not?”

“Oh I totally forgot, no doubt.” She takes her seat scooched up close to Mari’s and preens under the lingering kiss placed on her cheek. “My _Magic _cards were in a mess at the bottom of my bag and I found that Cleric spell I really needed last campaign meeting, but no dice.”

“You don’t need dice to play cards…”

“It’s an expression, Tony Stark.”

_Just let it go,_ says Nadya’s silent pat to Adrian’s shoulder. For a man who prides himself on keeping up with the times, sometimes he just didn’t.

“So we have nothing to play?” asks Jax — his glass already empty.

And that’s where Lily messes with something underneath the table. The reason for the ‘Lily Senses;’ something dangerous and volatile — possibly apocalyptic. Something that could turn her nice evening of trying to get everyone she cares about to get along into a catastrophe of Biblical proportions.

Nadya’s fully prepared to turn down whatever Lily has — to the point where she’s actually taking a breath — until she sees the four-color deck box and the fiery passion of competition consumes her soul.

“Raise your hand if you know _Uno_.”

There’s Lily and Nadya and Mari — no surprises when Adrian and Kamilah stare blankly. It’s Jax who emerges as the metaphorical wunderkind with a raised hand of his own and a shrug. “Lulu taught me how to play. I got tired of _Go Fish_ every day.”

Because she _knows _her two thousand year old date Nadya makes grabs for the instruction booklet while Lily and Mari take turns explaining the cards to Adrian. She catches Jax’s eyes across the table; his smug smirk at finally coming up on top tonight getting more smug by the minute. She can’t even get mad at him — it’s too cute.

“I think I understand,” Adrian pensively rubs his chin, “but what happens if someone reverses _my _reverse?”

Lily launches into an answer while Kamilah rewards herself for completing the rules with the rest of her wine. Stares at it and Nadya can practically read her mind that she’s debating opening another… and possibly another.

She leans over ever-so-slightly; picks her hand up on the table and kisses Kamilah’s knuckles like revering royalty. “I know it’s _simple _and _foolish_,” she hastily continues before she can be admonished for her botched impressions, “but not everything has to be fancy discussions and debating history. Sometimes you just gotta have fun.”

“And this is something you consider…_ fun?_” Kamilah surprises her; doesn’t say the word like it’s acid on her tongue but rather with an intellectual desire to understand.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Why?”

“Because you play it with your friends. And you’d be surprised what a game of _Uno _can do to a party. I got into a game once that ended in my roommate moving out of our dorm, the fight was _that bad._”

Kamilah gives a derisive snort. Looks down at their hands and twists her wrist until their fingers are just barely intertwined. 

“Then I hope to see the fun in it as well.”

“Aw, Kamilah…” It’s such a sweet and big gesture for a woman of her status and walk of life that it makes Nadya want to jump her bones right there. However… _Uno. _

She squeezes their hands properly — looks with adoration into Kamilah’s warm brown eyes.

“I love you and all, but that doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass in this game of _Uno._”

Kamilah’s smile fades slowly then all at once as the understanding settles in. A monster has been awakened.

Playfully Nadya plucks her hand away and turns to Lily as she shuffles the deck.

“Let’s play.”


	4. The Favor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Adrian calls on the services of Katherine for a second time she asks for a favor rather than her usual pay. Adrian takes a brief trip to New Orleans and meets a stranger on a mission to recover his lost memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief short to answer the question: _Where is Adrian?_ during the events of [_Bound by Destiny_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20055040/chapters/47494312) Chapter 8. The events of this short also play part in later chapters of the book.
> 
> **word count:** 1,127  
**rating:** teen+  
**content warnings:** mentions of war (brief)
> 
> _This work **is** to be considered part of the_ Bound by Destiny _&_ Bound by Choice _canon(s)._

He registers the knock on the door solely out of habit; mumbles “Come in…” half-consciously while continuing to scribble down his notes on the scroll clamped underneath the desk lamp’s soft glow.

He’s forgotten about guests altogether until someone clears their throat behind him and Cadence’s pen leaves a line across the paper instead of his word.

“I’d say you need to get out more, Cade, but daylight and all.”

Cade looks up into Katherine’s shining smirk. His eyes flash red with brief annoyance but the Nighthunter couldn’t be less disturbed by the sight of it. “Oh don’t gimme that,” she nags, “you said we could come in!”

_We._ That’s when he takes stock of the man lingering in the doorway. Dark hair, crisp suit — thicker material made for staving off the colder weather the South isn’t accustomed to, or at the very least made to appear that way — and a firm jaw set in a look of disinterest that’s practiced but untrue. Everyone’s interested in Cadence’s room of collected works. They can’t help themselves.

Immortals especially.

“Pardon the mess,” says Cade in a way that’s clear he couldn’t care less about it; who stands and pushes his glasses up from where they’re ready to fall off his nose, “I get so absorbed in my work.”

The man still finds his trinkets more fascinating than Cadence himself. “Personal, or professional?”

“Both.”

Only when he extends a hand does Katherine’s guest find it upon himself to look Cade in the eyes. There’s a mutual greeting there. Businessmen first, vampires second. He doesn’t know what he should be doing — should they flash fangs? Bite one another as a form of greeting? But the man just shakes his hand like any mortal would and that’s good enough.

Katherine gestures between them. Leans her hips back against Cade’s worktop casually.

“Cadence, this is Adrian Raines. Adrian, this is Cadence Smith.”

Adrian appraises Cade for a long moment before turning sharply to Katherine. “I agreed to do _you_ a favor. It’s not something you can just pass on like a ticket.”

“Oh I know. And I’m not, I promise.”

Cade looks between them with confusion brewing like a storm behind his eyes.

“I’m lost, Kathy.”

She nods; keeps talking to Adrian. “See, Cade here’s got me on retainer. When I’m not doing other jobs I’m working him on the down-low.”

“Working him… _how_ exactly?”

Cadence gestures for Adrian to sit — has to move in a blur to clear off a space on his loveseat and deposit the large record player to its new semi-permanent home on top of his space heater — and stiffly returns to his worktop desk.

“I think it would be best for me to explain.”

Adrian, to his credit, is a polite guest. So he’s already world better than the last person Kathy brought to see him to _help_. And he seems genuinely interested in what Cadence has to say — when he’s not giving Katherine calculating glances.

_Maybe this one might actually give them a lead._

“I’ve been hiring Nighthunters on retainer since I came to New Orleans in 1918,” he explains, and learns much about Adrian in that moment from the way his face lights up with recognition, “as a soldier shipped back from France. I believe I was misidentified.”

“You _believe?_” Adrian takes on the same curious tone they all do. Cade nods.

“The doctors believed my amnesia to be a part of Shell Shock — said my memories would return as the war was put behind me. But they didn’t. I may very well be _‘Cadence LaPointe’_ but I have a very strong inclination that I’m not. Originally I hired ordinary detectives, private investigators; anyone who I thought could help me but it was as if I had simply appeared on the earth with naught but my body. I didn’t even have the luxury of saying I had my mind.

“I started hiring Nighthunters both as a precaution to my condition and when it seemed I would have to search through the centuries for my answers. Kathy’s the fifth such Hunter to…” He looks to her with a wry, if pained, smile. “What’s the phrase you lot use?”

“It’s not some obscure thing, Cade,” then to Adrian; “I drew the short straw when the last guy bet his retainer status in a game of Blackjack. He got off free and I ended up with this lunk.”

Adrian frowns. “Well you get paid, don’t you?”

“A hefty sum.” answers the other vampire. “But I think they enjoy complaining.”

“It’s a pointless task and no one has even come close to sniffing out a lead.”

There’s an acceptance in the way she says it that makes Cadence’s heart fall into his stomach. She’s a hard worker, Kathy, and a good Nighthunter. But at least the last guy wasn’t so blunt about his circumstances.

Drumming his fingers on his pressed trousers, Adrian’s silent for a long moment. Trying to think of what to say — what questions to ask, maybe. Or searching through his memories. There’s an air about him that Cade can _feel_ even from a distance. This is no ordinary vampire. Maybe Katherine’s finally brought him something that could spur the investigation forward.

Before he can speak, though, Katherine does. “So that favor I’m asking for instead of payment? It’s for Cade. Hoped maybe with your Council of Crazy one of you might have heard of him, recognized him, or… whatever, you know? Knew something or someone who could get him back on the right track.”

Cadence looks to Adrian in surprise.

“_‘Council?’_ You’re… one of those New York Clan vampires, then?”

“Has his own Clan and a seat at the Council table.”

“I — yes,” Adrian doesn’t deny it, “but that doesn’t mean…”

Cadence finishes for him; “It doesn’t mean you can help.” He doesn’t mean to sound so resigned when he says it. Not that he got his hopes up for the presence of a complete stranger anyway. That’s simply the way his life is going it seems.

The man runs his hand over his face. His expensive watch glints in the dim light of Cade’s desk lamp. He’s warring with himself over something. As a man familiar with the struggle he doesn’t ask out of courtesy. No matter how much he wants to.

Then Adrian surprises him.

“I’ll speak to my associates. See what we can do. I can’t make any promises but if that’s not enough, then —”

“It’s more than enough,” the Nighthunter knocks her boot against Cadence’s thigh, “right Cade?”

The smile he gives isn’t full of hope. He’s lived too long and suffered too many disappointments for that. But it is genuine.

“Any help is more than enough, Adrian. Thank you.”


	5. Let Him Know What He's Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Ancient Rome Valdas takes dinner with Gaius. Left on the outs, Cynbel and Isseya decide to play a little game and make a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a writing exercise that turned into a little bit more featuring Cynbel, Isseya, and a newly-Turned Kamilah. Information on these original characters can be found at my tumblr [jcckwrites](https://jcckwrites.tumblr.com/). See the _end notes_ for clarification and references explained.
> 
> **word count:** 1,889  
**rating:** mature  
**content warnings:** explicit sexual content, implied BDSM, blood/kink/drinking, implied cannibalism
> 
> _This work is **not** to be considered part of the_ Bound by Choice _canon.*_  
_*the canonical status of this piece has changed with the release of _ [Choice I.i.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23105986/chapters/55281619)

_Circa 44 B.C…_

The echo of the doors closing travels through sea of glossy marble. Leaves the young two standing there with shared frustration and a lingering jealousy. 

“Come,” Cynbel coaxes with a hand on Isseya’s lower back, “he’ll know if we linger.”

“We _should._ You’ve heard the same stories I have about the Godmaker. I don’t trust him.”

“But you do trust Our Love, right?”

The pair stops in a shadowed corner. A pair of servants bearing trays of chalices and empty decanters pass without a second glance.

If everyone stopped to look when the Masters and Mistress of the estate secreted away then nothing would _ever _get done.

Isseya gives a petulant frown. “You know I trust Him, Cynbel.”

“Then that’s all we can do. He wished to speak to the Godmaker alone. Anything else would be to disobey Him.”

A light catches Isseya’s eyes at the thought. Fingertips like silk tracing from her lover’s wrists under his tunic and up the length of his arms. 

“Now _there’s _a thought.”

He fights back a pointed grin. “How foolish of me to mention the thought of punishment around _you,_ wicked one.”

“Foolish indeed.”

“Foolish enough to get me a punishment of my own?”

With murmured affections their lips meet. Greedy hands and lithe limbs desperate, craven for touch even half-exposed as they are. The priestess drags the tips of her fangs in a teasing mark down his exposed collarbone — makes Cynbel let his head fall back with a throaty moan.

She spares him a wet kiss and the drop of blood shared between them releases their inhibitions. He grasps Isseya by her hips and rounds them both against the wall. Hears a crack in the stone where chips of the mosaic behind them fall to the floor forgotten. 

“Iss — need —”

“Take what you need—_takeitCy _—”

Her sheer skirts bunched up in his claws Cynbel tries his hardest to be mindful of them — remembers the last time he ruined one of her dresses with a phantom sting of pain in his gut and another throb of his length. 

She can’t read his mind but she reads his body like a scholar to a lexicon. Throws her arms limber over his shoulders and helps him hold up the weight of her.

“Imagining your punishment?” Isseya croons. Lets her eyes flash deep red.

He gives her back the same hungry look; holds her captivated in a trance while stepping in between her legs. 

Cynbel eases inside her wet warmth with greed and familiarity. Watches the ticks and twitches of muscle as Isseya struggles — and ultimately fails — to win in their contest of wills as he finds home inside her.

The first is always the kindest. A little ritual between them — something their Maker finds amusing to a fault. Everything after isn’t _permitted _to be kind. Not with Isseya’s insatiable hunger. Not with Cynbel’s obsessive thirst.

They aren’t fucking to last but to win; someone _will _win in the end but as close as they are in age it’s impossible to assume. Only their God, their Maker can truly win against the pair of them.

Cynbel distantly wonders if He can hear their grunts; smell their lust even from across the main house. If He can then no doubt the Godmaker can, too.

_Good,_ he thinks — knows Isseya is sharing the same pride in victory — _let him know what he’s interrupting. _

Eyes closed and foreheads pressed together — they narrow the world around them down into the existence of no more than themselves. Something they’re good at; have always been good at. One of the crucial lessons bred in their blood and bones by their God.

_When the rest of the world inevitably falls we will remain. And we will always be together;_ always.

And they’re so familiar with the scent of one another that all it takes is a taste of the air to know they aren’t alone. To know there are eyes upon them from somewhere unseen. 

In a powerful, fluid roll of his hips Isseya is uprooted. She winds her legs around his waist and feels the dig and cut of his nails into her knuckles as their intertwined fingers hold her wrists against the wall. With a sudden rush to win he pushes deeper inside; over and over and over again until her body feels malleable to eternity in a way it hasn’t in centuries.

She peers at the golden halo of his hair through clouded eyes; struggles to pant the syllables of his name through bloodied lips. 

_“Cy—Kaa..hn…”_

_“Louder,”_ hisses Cynbel into her throat, _“louder for our guest.”_

The presence of a voyeur does nothing to slake her lust — quite the opposite in fact. Through stray strands of charcoal hair she peers around them. Ever vigilant.

Pools of amber catch her attention behind a column. 

Cynbel bites down; secures her carotid between his teeth. Drenches her in a wash of coppery ecstasy while she howls to the lotus carvings on the ceiling like a rabid animal.

The world stops — frozen — and comes back together outside of the maze of them. Isseya relishes every hot lap of her lover’s tongue that wipes the majority of the mess from her neck. 

He pulls from her sticky with sweat that makes his honey curls cling to his forehead and blood that runs in smears over his jaw. Seeps into the linen of his tunic and stains rust through the threads. 

The disappointment in his eyes only makes her orgasm that much more satisfying. 

“How the _fuck _did you win?” Cynbel wrenches himself away with a sneer — tucks himself still hard and covered in her slick back under his belt with jerked movements and frustration. “You wretched sinner.”

There’s no salvaging her messed pleats — Isseya pulls the twine and bronze clasps to free her hair in ringlets down her shoulders. 

She waits until he watches her to slip her hand between her thighs and bring the sweet, sweet taste of literal victory to her tongue. Holds him, enraptured, while she sucks every last knuckle clean.

“What can I say? I like an audience.” 

He can’t stay mad long with that look in her eyes. Takes her offered hand and pulls them in for a languid kiss. Still molten with desire but more for them than their visitor.

_Speaking of…_

“Come out, come out little pet.”

Her cooing tone is utterly ridiculous — takes everything in him not to laugh openly. When Isseya’s dress and clasps are back in order she pushes them both from the alcove. 

“I don’t ask, nor do I give second chances.”

“Because _that _won’t scare the lamb,” he drones to spur her ire. 

Luckily it doesn’t take much else for the woman to emerge from the shadows of the temple threshold. Cynbel doesn’t recognize her at a glance but that means little — they go through slaves with the changing of the seasons; or the changing of Isseya’s mood.

Only this one is definitely different from the rest. 

While Valdemaras could care less, as former Gauls his lovers are peculiar about their household staff. They carry no loyalty to their human lineage but despise the Romans still; refuse none but Roman blood in their chains both literal and symbolic.

This woman carries more of a resemblance to their God Himself; skin dark against the bright dyed fabrics she wears and eyes rimmed with kohl. Cynbel is reminded of his last voyage to Alexandria in the grace of her.

As he takes the stranger in, Isseya drapes herself over him. A predator marking it’s prey. “Enjoy the show?”

Surprise takes both members of the Trinity when their guest answers with a curled upper lip. 

“There is no entertainment in the territorial mating of beasts. The same in your so-called _‘show.’_”

Cynbel shushes her with a touch before his lover can snark back. It takes a large amount of courage or ignorance to speak to either of them in such a way. Which does she hold?

“Yet you stayed to see the curtains close.”

“Is that what you’d call it?”

“Of course not — but metaphors and all.”

The stranger crosses her arms over herself defensively. 

_“Enough of this,”_ Isseya’s voice is soft, _“rip off her head and be done with it. I want to take my prize in the study.”_

It makes him laugh at the least. 

_“There’s too much blood in your cunt and not enough in your skull. Can’t you hear it?”_

Isseya listens; shakes her head. 

_“Exactly.”_ No wonder they hadn’t noticed her approach — the thundering of blood through human veins was as much a part of their game as the victory. But she isn’t human.

He raises his voice to address her; “You’ve come with the Godmaker, yes?”

_“‘Godmaker?’”_ she parrots. 

“That which made Our Beloved.” Judging by her tone Isseya can barely deign herself to answer. “The One whose home you slither within.”

“That whom He calls _Gaius._”

After a moment… she nods. 

“In my lands he is known as the Undying Centurion.”

Cynbel stifles his chuckle. “And which lands would those be?”

“Those of my cousin and Pharaoh, Cleopatra.”

“Ah, yes. How fares the banks of the Nile? When last I looked upon them they were rather… _bright._”

“Practically _ablaze._” Isseya adds. Always a fan of gouging an already open wound.

Horror and recognition alight her eyes — are gone just as quickly. Intruder in their territory or no he can’t help but be impressed by the young woman’s ability to mask herself. 

If she lives long enough it might just serve her well.

Isseya grows bored beside him. “Have you a name, cousin to the Pharaoh Cleopatra?”

“Kamilah.”

“_Ka-mi-lah,_” she tries the name on her stained tongue, “rather forgettable if you ask me.”

“I don’t believe I did.”

“Ha!” Cynbel physically holds his priestess back and pets her hair as an apology. “Watch your tongue, little Kamilah. My love has been known to savor them as meals.”

“And since yours would grow back… I could make a feast of you.” 

“Would you risk the wrath of Gaius?”

The lovers exchange long looks. Feel their curled lips mirror one another. 

“In these lands and every other we are known as the Trinity, dear Kamilah,” Cynbel finally answers; drags his eyes across the hall to her where they glow with bloodlust not yet sated. “It is our wrath that _he _ought not to risk.”

A century could pass around them and none would move. To look away would be to lose; to submit. But keeping on them Cynbel senses a challenge and the last challenge he took ended in parchment fluttering on the breeze as ash.

The tension snaps when Kamilah glances away.

The priest of Valdemaras eases a drop of kindness into his poison and offers out a hand. 

“Come then,” he offers, “we were not made aware the Godmaker would be bringing a paramour. Let us show you what Rome can offer Our Lord’s kin.”

The doubt radiates off of Isseya but he stifles it with a glance. Not to mistake hospitality with courtesy — as Kamilah follows them along into the depths of the estate he is already making plans to rid their presence of her infection.

Too bad their Love and Lord has to miss out on the fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **notes:**  
\- 'the Trinity' is the nickname for the threesome of Valdas(Valdemaras)/Cynbel/Isseya  
\- 'Godmaker' is the Trinity's name for Gaius Augustine  
\- Cynbel & Isseya are known as the 'priest' & 'priestess' of Valdemaras, their Maker; they are from Gallic tribes  
\- Cynbel's reference is to the burning of the Library of Alexandria  
\- this drabble can be considered parallel to the events of Choices book _'A Courtesan of Rome'_


	6. The Price

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nadya's visions of the past are starting to take their toll, but Adrian is always there to help her recover. A century ago Gaius makes sure Adrian stays loyal to him through manipulative means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you can't write one thing, another might turn into something interesting and great for exploring character depth. It be like that sometimes. So please enjoy this little exercise looking into Nadya's struggle with vampire memories and Gaius' motivations in making sure his subjects stay loyal. Check out the whole story in [Bound by Destiny](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20055040) and learn more about the original characters mentioned at my tumblr [jcckwrites](http://jcckwrites.tumblr.com/).
> 
> NOTE: The flashback taking up the second half of this drabble references the real historical events of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire of 1911. I in no way wish to devalue the loss of life from that event and as such have not named names or tried to imply altered history in any way.
> 
> **word count:** 2,518  
**rating:** teen+  
**content warnings:** references to past emotional manipulation/abuse, death, grief, mention of physical violence (brief), historical references
> 
> _This work **is** to be considered part of the_ Bound by Destiny _canon, and takes place between I and II._ (coming soon)

_“Nadya?”_

Her eyes are watering; sting with the burn of being held open. When she blinks it off the barest beginnings of tears cling to her lashes.

A dark blue handkerchief is held out in offering before she can even reach for her desk drawer. 

“Here, just use this,” comes Adrian’s voice above her — that bare hint of concern he always seems to carry. The hallmark trait of the kindest of hearts.

“I don’t want to get mascara on it.”

“Nadya.”

“Okay, okay — fine.”

She half expects that to be that. Instead _feels _Adrian’s eyes on her while she takes delicate care and attention not to mess up her wingtip because it had taken a full hour that afternoon and sometimes a girl just has to be proud of a steady hand. 

Only when she’s sure her hard work is spared does she look at her boss properly. Gives him a sheepish, ashamed smile because there’s no way he’s getting the dark smears out of silk. “I’ll buy you a new one?”

Because she’d go crazy if she doesn’t offer, and Adrian will humor her with a chuckle and a nod because he’s kind like that. But they both know he has half a dozen back at his loft and it doesn’t really matter. Even with all of his years of wealth he’s remained an admirable type of level-headed and frugal.

But he surprises her in pushing their usual witty banter aside, doesn’t just take the pocket square back but instead covers her hand with his. Only in his steady hold does she realize she’s shaking.

_Where did _that _come from?_

“Are you okay?” That tone should only be reserved for dire situations — like being chased through a secret museum by a crazed politician or when she caught on the news that the Grumpy Cat had passed away. Not for this.

She nods, lets him take the crumpled fabric and brushes a strand of hair out of her eyes. A careful tactic many young girls learn early to hide their expressions for just long enough to steel them into cooperating. 

“Of course I am —”

But of course he doesn’t let her finish. “You were crying.”

“No I wasn’t.”

“So what would you call that?”

“Seeing how long I can go without blinking.”

Okay she totally gets it if that does the exact opposite of putting him off the investigation because it’s a crappy excuse. One even she doesn’t believe. And it’s just crappy enough to convey the message _I don’t want to talk about it._

He’s both silent and loud all at once. Says everything he needs to say in the slight furrow in his brow; the way the left side of his mouth is just a little pulled back.

_You know you can tell me anything. You know I’m here for you._ Adrian doesn’t say it because he doesn’t have to — because he knows she gets it. Risking your life sneaking into a vampire dungeon and taking on a pair of _very _weird recluse vamps does pretty well in establishing that you’d do anything for someone. 

_I know. _Instead she smiles, pushes her chair back a little so she isn’t getting neck cramps looking at him. “How was the meeting?”

Its slow going to get him actually talking. He knows its a distraction tactic, doesn’t want to take away from the fact he walked in on her pretty much fully zonked out with tears in her eyes. Lucky for her the meeting went, quote, “better and more productive than thought possible,” and once they get out of the office tonight he can head down to the Shadow Den with only good news to give Jax. Lucky because it means she can keep up said tactic with question after question until he definitely can’t waste any more time, needs to make a few calls to this company and that contributor, and if she’s sure she’s okay and doesn’t need to take the rest of the night off then he’s going to go get that done.

Though he stops mid-stride into his office and that makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. _So close to getting away with it._

“Did you happen to mention to Lily about my idea for the memorial?” 

The only reason she doesn’t exhale in audible relief is because it would put her right back at square one. “Yeah — and she agrees. She’s just waiting until after Halloween to bring it up to Mari in case Mari _doesn’t _agree.”

“Why would Halloween have anything to do with it?” Adrian asks, puzzled.

“Because it’s Halloween.”

“And?”

_“‘And’_ you’ve met Lily, right? Lily Spencer, my roommate? The girl who loves horror things more than life itself? Who definitely has something weird and probably kinky planned with hers and Mari’s couple costumes that I specifically begged her _not _to give me the details of?”

Yeah, her face at the time looked a little like Adrian’s does now. Neither of them prudish by any means but there are some things better left to the people involved and not their entire friend group.

“Of course. You’ll let me know though when she —”

“Relax,” she gives him an easy smile with a hidden meaning — he can relax about _her _too, “you’re overthinking it. Jax made you promise to make life better for the Clanless and you’re sticking to it because you believe in the cause. Even if they talk and decide they don’t want a plaque of names on the plaza fountain, that doesn’t devalue what you’re doing to help.”

Sometimes he just has to be reminded that what he’s doing is enough. More than, in Nadya’s opinion, but Adrian’s just… just a _good person._ And good people never think they’re doing _enough._

And if what scraps Kamilah has given her over the months are any indication, Adrian isn’t entirely to blame for his self-sacrificing nature. 

But their Maker is already taken care of. All she can do now is be there, be supportive, and help them heal the wounds Gaius gave them.

Now _he’s _the one looking a bit ashamed. “Thank you.” He means it more than mere language can provide. She knows that.

Leaves her alone with her work and her thoughts as he makes sure his office door is closed behind him like he always does when he’s going to be making calls. It’s probably the most normal profession-related thing they do together; give each other space when there’s real work that needs doing.

And her thoughts have been _itching _in wait for the chance to overwhelm her when they can. They try to needlessly, relentlessly. Teasing like a schoolyard bully — offering the things she can’t quite recall in a treasure chest at her feet before sending it slamming shut and to the depths of her mind before she can even catch a glimpse.

Thats the hardest part about these stupid visions of hers. They consume her mind and even sometimes her body — as evidenced by the zombie-Nadya that met Adrian following his return. They make her feel things she’s never felt and experience sensations, actions she’s never acted upon and for good reason. 

No one should have to know what it feels like to slaughter hundreds, thousands of people — to keep the blood on their hands and not only that but _savor it_ like a trophy — not when the very thought of hurting _anyone _at all sends their stomach into knots.

But thanks to them she has a _body count_ and is still too meek to tell the midnight door guard that her name isn’t ‘Nadine.’

On a whole she forgot the details after the vision passed. At first. 

But they want to be seen. _They want to be remembered._

So Nadya does what she always does. Listens intently until she can hear Adrian dutifully on the phone in his office, makes sure the coast is clear before she digs into the hidden pocket in her purse — pulls out her dark secret and grabs for a pen.

She jots down all she can remember — which isn’t much this time, thank Christ — on the back of the entry she’d scribbled that morning before Kamilah could wake up and discover her shame. Pens in the date at the top corner and tucks the journal away without letting herself linger on _just how full_ that terrible little book is getting. 

At this rate she’ll need to start a new one before Christmas.

* * *

_New York City, 1911_

He doesn’t miss the look Kamilah gives him out of the corner of her eye. Nose crinkled and lashes heavy — repulsed with the thing between his lips and yet, almost as if against her will, made to recall other _better _things he had done with that same mouth. 

His darling Queen abhors cigarettes, has told him as much in complaints of kisses that quickly turn into moans of desire, of satisfaction. Something about the smoke and memories of a history called _ancient _now — it was so long ago. Scrolls turned to ash and scattered to the winds; knowledge and lives lost together. But history cared about one of those things more than the other. Kamilah, too.

And so he stares back; tempts her to say something about it. If she _really _has such a problem with smoke then she’s in the wrong place.

Instead she turns her focus on the blackness still billowing up towards the night sky all these hours later.

“Is this…?”

“Yes.”

She snaps a sharp look his way. “And does Adrian know?”

Behind them a fire engine carriage goes ballistic with noise; the horses trapped in their harnesses despite their rearing, their whinnies high-pitched and filled with a familiar terror. Yet if one were to glance at the commotion they wouldn’t find the source of their startled fear. There are no snakes on the paved roads beneath their hooves. No whips lashing at them from the hands of overworked masters.

Gaius and Kamilah don’t have to look to know where their predator is. 

He sucks on the filter of his cigarette heavy. “He does now.”

“Poor taste, my love.” 

“A necessary evil.”

“Committed by an evil equally so?”

Gaius doesn’t have to _breathe _for her to know she’s spoken out of turn. She sees it in the shift of his stance. The way he decides he’s done with her attention for the moment and trains his eyes forward instead. 

Families, friends, passersby are still mourning loudly at the fire and the lives it took. 

His beloved Soldier now among them — jaw slack at the loss of human life. All these years and Gaius has yet to really beat that sentiment for the human condition out from under his skin. The wail his fellow vampires can hear even from their distance that grows with each second it takes to realize just _which _building caught on fire earlier that day, _which _floors were consumed in the blaze, and _who _was among them.

Adrian crumples to his knees in grief. Its a sight his Maker takes no pleasure in despite any — even his Queen — who might accuse otherwise. She knows better though — chooses not to start an argument already lost and rushes forward to console her brother in blood at his loss.

“It’s okay Adrian,” her lies carry on the wind with the rest of the remains of the factory blaze, “I’m so sorry for your loss, but we will endure. We always have.”

It pains Gaius to hear the crack in his Soldier’s voice when he musters the ability to speak; “She — Kamilah—I— _she can’t be_ —”

_But she was. She_ had been a distraction; an influence Gaius hadn’t approved of yet a reason for Adrian to commit heresy for still. The proof was right before his eyes — all that weakness bubbling just under the surface of Adrian’s skin now burst forth.

One day Adrian would understand he had done this for the best. For the greater good of their Kingdom.

Gaius tosses the remains of the cigarette aside — goes to grind it to a powder under his foot but another beats him to it. The boot is brown yet black with soot.

“You really ought to change, lest you be discovered and accused.”

“Accused of what?” lilts the vampire behind him, “a bad spark and scrap bin started the fire, or haven’t you been listening in on the police’s conclusions?”

Gaius looks passed the tall young man to where indeed a group of officials are gathered. They must think they’re speaking in hushed tones. _Fools._

“A novel idea. Now they won’t be searching mindlessly for a suspect.”

“I wouldn’t care much if they did. We depart tonight for England.”

But he wouldn’t be making idle conversation if there was nothing important to say. Makes Gaius drag his eyes upwards to see himself reflected in spectacles diligently cleaned of evidence from their time sparking the very flames the Vampire King of New York needed to ensure Adrian’s loyalty stayed where it belonged. With him.

“Speak, if you have words.”

The vampire inhales deep. “I did as you asked. Now tell me what I need to hear.”

Because he can, because its fun, he feigns ignorance. “And what would that be, dear Cynbel?” And he quickly learns the Trinity’s temper is true to rumor.

_“Tell me_ Valdas has your permission to leave this fucking cesspool!”

“Why would I wish for my oldest Child to leave my side — especially when my plans are nearly ready to be enacted?”

“Because I did as you asked for that sole purpose!”

It’s a struggle Gaius has never known; the desire to act but the bone-deep acceptance of a singular truth. That he _can’t._ He can’t attack Gaius; the progenitor of his beloved so-called deity. Not only in strength but in sheer force of will. There was a time, once… long ago when he knew he would never achieve the level of power, of love, that consumed him at the sight of the One who set him free… 

But that was history that made _ancient _look newly born.

“I am a man of my word, even if Valdemaras is not,” he waves flippantly — bored now with those fools and their notions of eternal love, “he has my permission to leave.”

Cynbel visibly deflates. “Thank you, Godmaker.”

“Though I will expect more than a favor should you three wish to join my Kingdom when it comes time. I remember those who stay loyal.”

The younger vampire surprises him when he casts a look back to his charred masterpiece; to where Kamilah has taken knee beside Adrian in an attempt to shoulder some of his burden.

“I’ve seen the price that _loyalty _to you demands. A high price indeed.”

He’s smart — flees before his insolence earns him Gaius’ wrath. It doesn’t matter to him either way. 

To have his Queen, his Soldier standing at his side and basking in the glory of his Kingdom? There is _nothing _he would not do.

Everything he does is for _Her,_ still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I look forward to bringing back references to these events in _Bound by Destiny II_ with larger roles for the Trinity of Valdas, Isseya, and Cynbel to come into play. I'd love to know your thoughts and comments on this piece!


	7. The Chauffeur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nadya has this silly dream of cuddling with Kamilah in the back of a car. Kamilah always has to be the one at the wheel. You see her problem here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A prompt fill drabble for prompt/s: _'cuddling in the back of a car/for warmth'_ from asoftplxcetoland & an anon on tumblr.
> 
> **word count:** 762  
**rating:** general  
**content warnings:** none
> 
> _This work **can** be considered part of the_ Bound by Destiny _canon, and would take place between I & II._

One thing she learns about Kamilah early on in their the-word-is-relationship-but-they-haven’t-used-it-yet-and-anyway-maybe-her-centuries-old-girlfriend-doesn’t-like-labels?

The woman prefers driving herself. Driving them both, when the time comes, but the point still stands.

If there is a wheel, Kamilah prefers to be the one steering it. (A phrasing she can no longer use around Lily for obvious reasons.)

Unfortunately that leaves little room for negotiation, or say… cuddling. Because Adrian may be known for speeding up just a _tad_ when it comes to making a yellow light but he’s a pretty standard safe driver. Like he’s gunning for the poster boy of Driver’s Ed. But to say Kamilah has a lead foot is a _generous_ understatement. How can Nadya expect to cuddle her when she’s fearing for her life with every change of lane?

Just because she doesn’t remember making the mistake of confessing her secret fanfiction-trope car-cuddling fantasy to Lily doesn’t mean she didn’t do it. It just means Lily probably kept pouring the wine until she had other things on her mind.

Since she definitely had, of course, Lily had taken it upon herself to wrangle Adrian into another ‘Kadya Official Dating Squad’ scheme. 

_She really needs to get a hold of her roommate’s and her boss’ phones and delete the other’s contact info. This is getting ridiculous._

“It seems a terrible waste of everyone’s time and effort in thwarting your execution for you to court death in this way, Adrian.”  


Nadya keeps huffing into her gloves like it’ll help. It won’t. Five minutes on the curb in front of the restaurant and she’s already accepted her fate as a popsicle for the rest of her days.

The car is _right there_ but because she never thinks long-term her boss and her girlfriend are both immune to frigid temperatures ― so she’s kinda stuck waiting.

And dumb, stubborn Adrian just _will not_ get out of the driver’s seat of Kamilah’s sleek black Bentley. Frankly her death is on their hands.

“Kamilah, please just get in the car.”  


“How did you even get the keys?”  


“I have my ways.”  


_“Adrian…”_   


“Fine; I swung by your loft.”  


“Ah, so Gerard is complicit in your crime.”  


“Kam―for Christ’s sakes, _look at Nadya she’s freezing―_please just get in the car.”  


Normally Nadya would let them hash it out. _‘Normally’_ constituting a sunny evening in, say, mid-August―not the depths of a November cold front. She’s full of fancy wine and fancy French cuisine and fancy dessert and _they are ruining the moment, darn it!_

“Kamilah!” She whines loud enough to grab both vampires’ attentions, feels the solid weight of the woman’s arm pulling her close on instinct. “It’s no big deal if he drives. He’s just being…” _a third wheel, _“nice.”  


It’s two against one and Kamilah’s never really forgotten her roots as a tactician ― knows when she’s defeated and when to accept it with dignity.

“Very well, very well!” Though she eyes the front seat with a frown when Adrian leaves it unprotected to open the back cabin door for them. That’s when Nadya notices the lack of waistcoat and strange hat her boss is wearing.  


_Oh my god. He’s playing chauffeur._

She accepts the vampiress’ helping hand with a “thank you” through chattering teeth; practically has to tug her down to follow and not without muttered protest. Honestly she expects nothing less.

“One night won’t kill you,” she mumbles. Kamilah, however, disagrees.  


“Adrian drives like an elderly matron.”  


“As opposed to a Tokyo drag racer?”  


Sharp eyes snap to her but Nadya refuses to take it back. The resulting stare down lasts just long enough for their driver to buckle himself in and merge into traffic. With a contented sigh Nadya accepts the gift―however unorthodox―that she’s been given. Peels off two pairs of gloves and laces her bare fingers with Kamilah’s.

Two blocks (and a frustrated _“You could have made that light!”)_ pass, have Nadya just on the cusp of a dozing nap when she’s jerked back to _awake_ by movement. She watches as Kamilah reaches forward and turns the heating dial all the way up. Lets her settle back in wordlessly especially when an arm snakes over her shoulders to pull her close.

“… Better?” Kamilah asks; a whisper.  


But Nadya doesn’t respond right away. Waits until the temperature kicks in and her cold-blooded girlfriend starts to warm up with the rest of the car―_and the heated seats(!)_

“Much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **For Reference:** [Kamilah's Bentley](https://cdn.cnn.com/cnnnext/dam/assets/190611155907-02-bentley-flying-spur-super-tease.jpg)


	8. Things Worth Keeping, or the Annual Raines Corp. Fourth of July Charity Gala

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kamilah takes great care in preserving some of the more sentimental articles of clothing she's acquired over the years. Nadya realizes she might have a historical costume kink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All this is thanks to, and dedicated to, a [delightful anon](https://jcckwrites.tumblr.com/post/616255213148536832/i-know-this-might-be-random-and-you-can-ignore) who is just as thirsty for uniform!Kamilah as the rest of us. I hope it lives up to your expectations!! Feel free to send in prompts any time because this was so much fun to write.
> 
> **word count:** 2,775  
**rating:** teen+  
**content warnings:** language, brief political discourse, implied sexual undertones, implied kink
> 
> _This work **can** be considered part of the_ Bound by Destiny _canon, as it includes mentions to original characters and events from the fic, and would take place between Destiny I & Destiny II._

So it turns out every time there’s an event that requires Kamilah’s attendance (specifically _requires,_ since the Awakening Ball was both some weird vampire-political obligation _and _her wanting to see Marcel again) the mannequins come out.

Only for costume events though.

Or… she’s decided _‘every’_ just because what are the chances she’s lucky enough to behold the sight of Kamilah Sayeed in period wear twice in one year? Apparently very good, very good indeed.

The vampire takes it upon herself to explain while fussing with a few collars and sleeves rumpled in transit. Nadya takes it upon herself to listen intently — takes everything in her willpower not to take notes. “Indeed one comes to terms rather early on that all objects are replaceable and their worth is only what the owner projects upon them,” which is quite a lot judging by the little smile Nadya sees peeking at the corner of Kamilah’s lips as she works, “and because I have had the misfortune of losing things I once coveted, I see no harm in preserving that which has stayed with me.”

Nadya adjusts her seat on the couch; makes sure the lid on her travel mug is secure otherwise she’ll never be allowed to drink in the front room again. “Is that a really fancy way of saying _‘I think it’s really pretty and I want to keep it that way?’”_

Kamilah goes still. Not the tense kind of still that makes Nadya want to stuff her words back in her mouth but the kind of still she’s come to understand will reap very wise rewards. If she’s patient enough.

She’s learning to be patient enough.

“I suppose if you wish to bring the sentiment down to the simplest terms… yes.”

And _oh man_ even that little agreement has Nadya buzzing excited.

“I’m so excited — this is gonna be so much fun!”

“What it _will be,_ Nadya, is a gross exaggeration more akin to a serial drama than the real thing.”

“Wow, grumpy pants. Where’s your sense of patriotism?”

“In the same gutter as the ideals on which this nation was founded.”

_Okay, fair point._ But that brings up a very good series of questions all scrambling to make themselves heard. Which goes about as well as it always does and leaves Nadya tongue-tied and mute.

More than a few times Kamilah throws subtle looks in Nadya’s direction. Totally discreet and casual — done while circling a dress here, adjusting a cravat there. And each time she asks some variation of “Are you sure _this _is how you wish to spend your evening?” Nadya gives her the same answer.

“There’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be.”

The final time Kamilah is just close enough to turn crisp on her heel and bring them face to face. Her deep honey eyes roam Nadya’s face and spare no detail; like she’s one of those pretty dresses Kamilah’s kept after all these years.

It makes Nadya feel small and big, whole down to the tips of her toes but also just a sliver in Kamilah’s long long life. Which is a lot to feel for someone of her size. Maybe too much.

Cool, soft lips on her forehead force Nadya to open eyes she didn’t know she was squeezing shut. No longer scrutinizing, now the vampiress allows them both a rare glimpse behind the mask. To the concern she guards close and reserves for those she cares about.

Adrian, Gerard, Marcel… Nadya.

_She cares about me that way. Holy cow._

“You truly mean that.” Kamilah says and it isn’t a question. Kamilah isn’t in the business of asking stupid questions to which she knows the answers — that’s Nadya’s ball game.

“Of course I do.”

“Forgive my surprise.”

“Always.”

It’s just a kiss. People kiss all the time, all over the world. But those people aren’t Nadya and they aren’t kissing Kamilah so they couldn’t _possibly _know how wonderful and important and _loved _each one makes her feel.

Along with all the other things that make her squeak when they part. It’s impossible to miss _that look_ in Kamilah’s gaze.

“While I enjoy your company immensely Nadya… I may have to ask you to leave,” even though the trace of her finger over Nadya’s lips kind of contradicts that, “as I _do _have to attend a conference call before the night is through.”

Nadya doesn’t even care that her pout is a little childish. “I thought you took the day off for this.”

“I took a _half day_ for this. _You _were the one who insisted on losing an entire night’s productivity to help me choose my attire.”

“I’ll be quiet?” _There’s no harm in trying, right?_ Thankfully Kamilah still seems more amused than anything.

“You misunderstand.”

Does she, though, because there are only so many ways to take the sudden closeness. Kamilah’s hands braced atop the back of the couch pinning Nadya between the cushion and her _permanence,_ the contradictory darkness in her bright eyes with their lowered lashes, and _oh my god that smirk…_

Then Kamilah’s leaning in to whisper in her ear and she’s just—just jello, absolute jello. “I had hoped to be finished by now, yet I keep finding myself _distracted.”_

Jello or not though Nadya will always be Nadya.

“I—I can leave, if… if that’s what you want.” _I know work is important to you. I know schedules are important to you even though your organizational methods are outdated and frankly anxiety-inducing. I know you have a lot to get done and only so many hours of moonlight to do it…_

Kamilah doesn’t answer. Instead just taps the underside of Nadya’s chin with her pointer finger and gives a smile in reward when the human lifts her head obediently.

“What do _you _want, Nadya?”

_You know what I want,_ she would normally say, but if she did then all their… all their _training _would be for nothing. And don’t memories of _that _(as recent as, uhm, three in the afternoon today) make her zone out somewhere over Kamilah’s shoulder.

Seven mannequins; still headless, still creepy. Four beautiful ballgowns and a priceless Egyptian _kalasiris†,_ a definitely custom-tailored zoot suit, and…

_Holy broad stripes and bright stars._

“I asked you a question.”

_Oh yeah, she’s definitely wearing that._

Kamilah doesn’t have to remind her twice. Nadya leans forward what little she can; basks shamelessly in the one thing in the entire world she knows she’s _earned_—

The way Kamilah looks at her with absolute _pride._

“You. I want you.”

* * *

Its so fulfilling to see all her hard work come together in one place, on one night, and with the promise of fireworks to come. There’s just something about fireworks. She loves ‘em.

Jax lets out his fifth heavy and long-suffering sigh of the minute. A personal best, but Nadya’s having too much fun to ruin the night by telling him.

Unfortunately her hoop skirt makes it hard to sidle up for a hip-check. Cue sigh number six.

“You know I’m technically the hostess for this thing, right?”

“Are you saying you’re the person I complain to?”

She huffs. “No, I’m saying that your grumpy face is personally offending me.”

She can’t tell if he’s purposefully avoiding her eyes out of spite or shame — then a roaring yelp of laughter from the dance floor draws Nadya’s attention out to where Lily and Maricruz spin fast-paced and free; held together by just their hands and their shared looks of _‘I couldn’t care less where I am so long as it’s with you.’_

At least _that _gets a little smile out of Mr. Grumpy-Pants.

A costumed server stops at the pair of them and offers his tray of goodies up like sin. Nadya spares two quick glances over either shoulder — thankfully Adrian has donors to schmooze and Kamilah hasn’t arrived yet — before she plucks a cheese cube carved in the shape of the Liberty Bell.

But it isn’t enough that Jax has to act so unhappy the entire gala — now he’s stealing her snack and eating it himself?! _Where’s my purse, where’s my stake?!_

What else can she do but gape? He doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed, just chews and chews and _swallows _while trying to ease the itch in his legs caused by the borrowed hose.

“Lily warned me you might make bad choices.”

_So what? I’m a grown woman, I can make bad choices if I want to._ “Are all of you in on some big conspiracy to keep me from cheese?”

“If it’ll spare you future pain, yeah.” Which — she wasn’t expecting that. Nadya can’t help but feel her face soften. One look down her way though and he rolls his eyes. “Stop it.”

“You hate my party. You _steal my cheese._ What’s next, burning my crops and delivering a plague onto my house?”

Jax looks appalled — which is a real shame. That would have gone over so well with Lily. “I—what?!”

Nadya just waves it off though. “Forget it. Just…” oh hey look, time for her own sigh, “forget it.”

“It’s not you. It’s these tights.”

“They’re hose.”

“They _itch.”_

_“Imagine wearing them all the time.”_

Nadya is totally enjoying her frilly not-period-accurate-in-the-slightest ensemble but of course Adrian is the only one who looks really _right _in his whole get up. It’s a good thing he has to wear modern suits and styles or else he’d be pegged for a vampire right away.

Her boss pulls her in for a one-armed hug, expertly outmaneuvering the skirt but he probably has experience with that, huh? And his smile only widens as he takes in Jax in all his colonial glory.

“They were good in the winter, obviously. Though I’ll admit once I didn’t feel the weather anymore the discomfort really presented itself as a problem.”

Jax just rolls his eyes. “Why do I feel like you throw this thing just to say shit like that?” Which— she can tell he’s trying to be sarcastic but Adrian definitely goes tense beside her.

“I _‘throw this thing,’_ as you say, because my own personal wealth can only go so far, and most of it is immaterial. But every donation _is _material, and that maximizes the good I can do with it.”

Nadya nods eagerly. “There’s like six different scholarships in STEM research alone, I think a dozen in the business sector, and _when _we get to our goal tonight —” she knows they will, Raines Corp. history states they always do and Raines Corp. never had her to push them above and beyond, “— the company’ll have enough to match the city’s bid for the abandoned tunnel reconstruction project.”

If he ever read the minutes she sent him after every Council meeting he’d know this, but when Jax said he didn’t do paperwork he meant _he really didn’t do paperwork._

But it’s enough to get his attention. “And what happens then?”

Adrian shrugs. “I postpone it. The most I can do without getting politicians involved is five years but I figure… that should be long enough to either relocate the former Clanless and break even, or fortify the Shadow Den enough that any efforts won’t cause structural damage. Unfortunately Vega’s interim replacement hasn’t officially made her views on such things known, but I think with time —”

It’s—as Lily would put it—_freakin’ cinematic._ How Adrian’s voice fades away to a buzzing in her ears and Jax’s reply sounds like a mouthful of cotton. The music dims and the lights aren’t as bright except where they fall on her when she strides through the open double doors.

Now let it be known that Nadya firmly believes Kamilah looks amazing in anything. Her power suits, a crimson dress from centuries gone, the plum kimono she uses as a nightgown… Honestly she’d probably somehow make a banana costume look sinfully sexy.

_No. What? No. Moving on._

And even though Nadya knew the moment she laid eyes on the uniform it was _the _non-negotiable choice — her brain put some weird filter on itself to keep her from imagining just what that looked like. Probably to try and keep her sane.

Because the real thing… there are literally no words.

Adrian’s laugh comes both from behind her and a million miles away. “Would you look at that. Now _that _is a sight that brings back memories.”

“Wow, color me surprised.” Jax deadpans.

Adrian is a close personal friend of the New York Historical Reenactment Society (surprisingly not a bunch of vampires… if there was ever a group suspect but no, she’s checked) and most of them are in attendance tonight. They make Nadya look like her dress—a gift from Adrian, _rental only_—was bought at a cheap pop-up Halloween store.

And Kamilah makes them look like a middle school theatre cast. There’s just something about the fabric, the way it fits her and the way she carries not just the uniform but her own body inside of it that makes her look authentic. No one would believe her; not with the freshly-oiled leather and polished brass buttons, but Nadya’s chaotic-dumb brain really wants to scream _“take a look at the real deal, ya posers!”_

Kamilah’s hand rests on the glossy hilt of her saber as she approaches. Eyes passing right over Adrian — probably used to the sight — and sparing Jax absolute no dignity in the soft _“ha”_ she gives.

“I didn’t know we could wear uniforms.”

Kamilah raises an eyebrow and tucks a stray strand of hair back behind her ear. “You… have one?”

“No,” _sigh number seven,_ “but I would’ve tried to find one. Anything to get out of these tights.”

“They were useful during winter.”

Adrian laughs and gestures to her eagerly. “That’s what I said!”

Kamilah wasn’t ignoring her, not on purpose. That’s made obvious the second she finally does take in every skirt and frill, every pearl in her necklace and lets her eyes linger where Nadya’s chest heaves against her corset.

“Nadya, you look as beautiful as ever.” Then Kamilah_ takes her hand and kisses the back of it_ with a soldier’s courteous bow. _Where’d I leave that dumb lace fan…?_

She’s about 99.9% sure Kamilah holding her hand is the only thing keeping her standing right now.

Adrian snickers. Nadya couldn’t care less. “Careful there, General Sayeed††. Your lady seems about to swoon.”

Thankfully the woman takes heed and pulls Nadya close, possibly the most public affection they’ve ever had holy crap on a cracker, resting a hand on the curve of her hip. Yet she looks at Adrian with… what is that, mild annoyance?

“You know very well I was not named General until nearly a century later.”

Jax mouths his silent counting — blanches; “You were a General in the Civil War? You know what — of course you were.”

“A discussion for another day, perhaps.” Kamilah dismisses him just shy of pushing him out the door; lucky for Nadya both he and Adrian take the hint and fade into the cinematic background.

It’s just Nadya and Kamilah now.

“Hello.”

“H-Hi.”

Long fingers brush a strand of Nadya’s hair aside feather-light. “You do look… stunning, Nadya. You look stunning. Blue becomes you yet again.”

Blue? She’s wearing blue? Because her face is scarlet. “You — I mean — wow like…” _words Nadya — words,_ “you really wore that and…” _And fought in it?_

Kamilah’s nod is curt. “In a sense. My skills were best suited to espionage, sabotage and the like.”

“Of course they were.”

“Though I’m gladdened to know the uniform still becomes me.”

_As if it ever wouldn’t._ “You look perfect in, like, everything.” But Kamilah’s not a fan of those kinds of blanket statements, so she tries again a little bit more from the heart. “You make a uniform look _really _good, that’s what I mean.”

The hand on her hip presses down then; important and as on purpose as everything else Kamilah does. Through the fabric right underneath her hand a familiar purpling not-at-all-bruise sings sweet on Nadya’s skin. Of course Kamilah knows where the love bite is. She was the one who gifted it.

“I may be the soldier…” Kamilah pulls her close; a hold of stone — she leans down to ghost a kiss at Nadya’s jaw (and knows it will drive her _wilder than wild)_ and whisper in her ear.

_“But you’ll be the one taking orders.”_

Nadya’s last coherent thought?

_She really needs to find more chances to get Kamilah in costume._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _†kalasiris:_ the traditional body-length dress worn by women throughout Ancient Egypt (in this case the dress in Kamilah’s flashback)
> 
> ††: Adrian’s mention of General Sayeed is a brief reference to [Bound by Choice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23105986), book 3 in the Oblivion Bound series


	9. The Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nervous, broke, and way under-qualified, Nadya applies for a last-resort secretary job at the illustrious Raines Corp. But a cup of coffee before her interview might just change her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday _Oblivion Bound!_ On June 29th you turned 1 year old, and I couldn’t be more excited to have so much more of this story to tell. To everyone who has joined me along the way I hope you enjoy this little flash back to how it all began for the dynamic duo of Adrian and Nadya.
> 
> **word count:** 4,902  
**rating:** teen+  
**content warnings:** none
> 
> _This work **is** to be considered part of the_ Oblivion Bound _canon, and takes place before the events of_ Bound by Destiny.

In all the articles she read (that morning, which probably wasn’t a good way to start out even the _potential _of this job) there was a universal agreement that being the last person interviewed was about as bad as being the first.

But none of those stupid articles told her what to do when she finds herself stuck smack-dab in the middle.

She keeps trying to push up her glasses. There’s a half-crescent probably permanently etched into the bridge of her nose by now. Great first impression to make, honestly.

The conference room door opens and everyone tries to play it cool, tries not to look at the face of the woman who exits. They don’t want to get their hopes up. They don’t want to think three hours of waiting is for nothing.

She leaves just like all the others. The next name is called just like all the others. Four seats to her left the young man stands and adjusts his tie. Runs his tongue over his pearly teeth — and closes the pristine wooden doors behind him.

_What had Lily said?_ Something helpful, probably. Though she’s certain now it was probably mixed in with a whole lot of nonsense. Motivational quotes, stress-relief tips that worked on everyone _but _the chronically anxious. But, much like how she finds herself, there’s one sliver of usefulness among the chaos.

_“Caffeine. If you get the jitters just tell them you’re excited to work there! If not… well you’ll have coffee and that’s a gift on its own.”_

The last candidate was interviewed for twenty-three minutes. Before her; thirty-one minutes.

So she rationalizes there’s nothing wrong with leaving her clipboard on her seat and rushing to the lobby for a quick java boost. Hadn’t there been a coffee cart right off to the side…?

It’s only fitting that the last of her freehand cash is spent here. If by some miracle she actually gets the job it’ll be something funny to reminisce on after she gets through the first year.

_If she gets through the first year._

The middle of the afternoon has come and gone, now. She looks out through the glass walls of the front atrium to see the sky fading into the ombre of evening light. At this rate the interviewer won’t get to her in time, and she’s pretty darn sure this isn’t the type of place to waste a call back on something as trivial as a secretarial position.

It’s New York. Secretaries are a dime a dozen. That much is obvious.

Now comes the hard part — waiting. Trying not to tap her foot on the expensive marble floors and trying not to look back so much she messes up her hair and trying not to chew her lip so hard she walks into her interview with blood on her teeth.

_“Are you alright?”_

The first words said to her since she arrived; well… apart from _“Complete the forms given before your interview. You will be called in by order of arrival”_ hammered out by the terse blonde interviewer. The first words and they’re _kind _and she’s definitely thrown more than a little off-kilter by the whole thing.

And coming from the custom-fit Suit she just happened to stand near, too? Well now she’s wary of flying pigs on the evening weather forecast.

It’s hard _not _to look at him from the ground up; to take in all of him with the money that seeps from his collar and cuffs and the way his tie pin catches the lights overhead. From the way he carries himself the Suit knows all this; he’s accustomed to it.

Only… her appreciation halts at his eyes. Dark brows just shy of knitted together and a shine in his eyes that has nothing to do with fluorescent bulbs and everything to do with… with…

It’s an impossible sensation. One she’s never felt before. Not just hard to describe but literally — she _can’t._ There aren’t words for a look like that. Open and honest and genuine and…

_“Soy latte for Nadya.”_

Is she staring? She feels like she’s staring.

The Suit laughs. It’s the shift in his expression that does it — puts her squarely back inside her own head where everything is all a hectic jumble of professional words and an itemized list of accomplishments. _Yup, she was staring._ If she gets this job she’ll have to rely solely on home-brewed coffee so as to _never meet this man again._

“Are _you _Nadya?”

The burning in her cheeks is in direct contrast to her chosen blush. But Nadya has a feeling he’s the least likely person to notice that, here. The coffee cart barista on the other hand…

It’s hard to stop her hand from trembling as Nadya reaches out for her coffee. Hopefully not enough to notice, certainly not enough to spill anything, but n_ope nope nope about mission — the Suit noticed. The Suit noticed!_

“I’m sorry,” her apology; a compulsion, “I—that was super rude of me. Oh my god, I… probably look like such a weirdo.”

“A bit,” he muses in reply. But he doesn’t seem all too bothered by it? It has the gears in her head turning backwards trying to understand.

“At the risk of sounding vain —”

“—said every vain person ever?”

“Too true; but I digress. You have nothing to be sorry for — it’s not the first time something like that has happened.” He’s on the nose there — between the polished cufflinks and his smile just the same the guy _definitely _sounds vain.

The first sip of her latte is always the same — tentative, just a quick taste to make sure her stomach isn’t gonna regret it later — but Mr. Vanity doesn’t look away which is a little unnerving to say the least.

“Just nerves then, I assume?”

“Wait — I’m sorry?”

If Nadya had to wonder where any sense of _‘cool and calm’_ she might have had went she’s found it here, all soaked up in (probably) Italian loafers. “Just a second ago,” his hands slide into his pockets, “you looked… well I thought you were about to faint.”

_Oh._ “Right—yeah—nerves,” and he didn’t ask but she rambles when she’s like this so really it’s his fault for starting a conversation, “I’m actually here for a job interview. My first big gig since moving to the city, you know?”

The man nods appraisingly. “I remember the feeling well. But this office is the same as any other on Wall Street, I assure you.”

Yeah, that’s Nadya’s problem.

“I’ve never worked in a place like this. Ever.”

“Ever?”

_“Ever ever.”_

“Ah,” when he nods not even a hair comes out of place, _“‘Ever ever,’_ that’s a pretty big deal.”

“The roof over my head _literally _depends on it, so…” And normally Nadya would take one look at a guy like this and say without a shadow of a doubt that he’s probably never had to worry about that sort of thing. But there’s something about him — something different than the earlier strangeness, but something nonetheless — that tells her he might just take her by surprise.

She really should be getting back to her seat.

But even with every relaxation technique in her arsenal this—right here—this is the best she’s felt about herself all day. So there’s no harm in staying an extra minute or two, right?

The man laughs unprompted and Nadya casts him a curious look. He seems almost bashful about it.

“You just reminded me of my first job, is all.”

“Let me guess — right in this very office but, hm… intern? No, you look more like the humble mail room type.”

His look turns appraising. “Do I really?”

“Do you want the truth?”

“If you have to ask that then perhaps not.” Yet their teasing is as well-meaning as it is spontaneous; enough for him to actually continue, “Actually my first job — well, first _paying _job that is — was a cobbler. You know, for shoes.”

Oh, Nadya knows. Yeah, in fact she has a funny story pretty similar having to do with a frazzled third-grade substitute teacher and a Bunsen burner. Since it had been, after all, a unit on _Colonial America._

But that’s a level of sass they probably haven’t risen to just yet. She just nods instead.

“It was a small business, well—it was a small _town._ My father knew the owner and one thing led to another. I was pretty nervous on my first day too.”

_He’s just trying to help,_ Nadya reminds herself. However strange and probably untrue his story may be, there’s no denying his sincerity. Just a successful man talking to a not-even-secretary trying to show a little empathy. Frankly Nadya isn’t sure she wouldn’t be doing the same thing were the roles reversed.

That’s just what kind people did for others. The world would be a better place if everyone was like that.

The cart barista doesn’t even get the chance to put down the drink fully when he’s reaching for it. Some people just need their java — Nadya can totally relate. But she swears the Suit _winks _at the girl. Though it could definitely just be a trick of the light.

Nadya’s all prepared for the _“this was nice but we’ll never cross paths again”_ sort of goodbye when he returns.

Instead he throws her for a loop and places his cup at one of the two little silver tables that serve as the cart’s cafe. He pulls out a chair with a smile her way — is that supposed to be meant for _her?_

He catches onto her surprise quickly. “I hope you don’t think me too forward. I was just enjoying our chat and thought… why leave it there?”

_Uhm, because you’re a man with a salary high enough to look the way you do?_ “Oh — I mean its… that’s really sweet of you but I should be…” she throws a look in the direction of the conference room, “getting back. Being late for the interview doesn’t seem like the best impression to make.”

The man laughs; some joke Nadya isn’t privy to. “If that’s all you’re worried about — don’t be. She actually gets a kick out of drilling people in there.”

Her resolve crumples at his hopeful smile. “And I’ll vouch for you.” Oh look she’s already sitting down.

“Well if we’re actually doing this, how about a name?” She tries to look at his cup but can’t quite catch it. If she didn’t know any better Nadya would say he actually turned it away while taking a sip.

“My name is Adrian. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Nadya.”

“Same to you, Adrian.”

Nadya discovers very quickly that this isn’t just about _enjoying a chat._ Judging by the looks they get — though Nadya could easily be chopped liver — and the curt nods here and there, it’s obvious Adrian is pretty important. He’s just using her to play hooky.

Which only earns him points in her book.

So does the way he props his elbow on the tabletop to rest his chin on an open palm. “So I have to ask you, Nadya, if I may of course.”

“Ask away.”

“If you’ve never _ever _worked in a corporate setting before — why now? This isn’t the kind of job one finds in the Classifieds.”

A fair question. She laughs softly. “Is it bad if I say I don’t really know? Oh god, it probably is.”

“I wouldn’t say _bad,_ but the hiring interviewer will probably ask something along the same lines.”

“You’ve… got a good point there. Okay,” she makes a little show of sitting up straighter and pushing her glasses all the way up until she knows there’s little red dots between her eyes; Adrian’s smile is totally worth it.

“So the salary’s good but I’m sure you know a little bit about that.”

He chuckles. “A little bit, yes.”

“And threat-of-eviction aside; I caught the listing on one of those random alumni emails from my college. You know — the ones where they make it out like they’re trying to help you succeed but they’re really used to find grads with the biggest paychecks to hound them for donations.

“It definitely wasn’t my first choice. I don’t think I have to tell you that I’m pretty out of my element.” She pauses when Adrian’s brow creases just the smallest bit.

“What would you say _is _your element then?”

“That’s just it. I’ve got absolutely no clue. I figured I could do the basic job okay — I actually enjoy putting schedules and things together and the rest — all the business-y parts — I hoped I could just kinda pick up along the way. Do I think this is going to be my _calling?_ No idea, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t put all my effort into the work.

“But you can’t find something without trying, you know? I trust my gut and… figure I’ll know what I’m looking for when I see it.”

Because Nadya had done herself the disservice of not trusting her gut when she first moved out here. _Get a part-time job or two to pay the bills and loans,_ she figured, _and just keep looking for that perfect one._

Yeah. _That _had gone over well.

Interview after interview — all with the same depressing result: the cheery false-apology letter and some variation of _“we thank you for your interest but we will be continuing to pursue other candidates.”_

Adrian is polite and attentive the whole time, too. Even when she gets to the unnecessary descriptions of Lily’s cheer-up dinners. Nadya knows she has a tendency to ramble when she’s nervous — but every time she apologizes he smiles and shakes his head; tells her _“no apologies necessary, please go on,”_ and sometimes follows up with a thoughtful question or consideration that could only come from someone actually genuinely taking part in the conversation.

He’s kind. She’s surprised to find that in a place like this but he is. And before long Nadya finds herself wondering why she was ever nervous at all. _Too bad _he _isn’t the one interviewing,_ she thinks,_ I might actually have a chance._

“That’s…” Adrian leans back in his seat with a forced exhale, “that’s quite a story.”

She knows where this always goes. “I knew it; way too much sharing. I was hoping to try and put a positive spin on it — for the position, I mean. Answering phones, scheduling meetings, that kind of stuff. I’m sor—”

“Nadya, please don’t apologize again. You don’t need to.” Then he reaches over and has a hand over hers and he’s _cold,_ like weirdly as cold as the atrium itself, or maybe she’s just too darn flush from embarrassing herself. “Never apologize for the things that make you _you._ And give yourself a bit of credit, while you’re at it. I’ve lived and worked here for a long time and I’ve seen a lot of people settle for less. Even people like yourself.”

“English majors who have no business in Business?”

“People who don’t quite know what they want out of life. You’re young, Nadya —” _which is rich coming from him, he can’t be more than thirty,_ “— you don’t have to have it all planned out _right this second._ You’ll miss out on too much if you try.”

Adrian’s words leave her speechless. She makes a mental note to let him know just how rare that is later on. Not just because he could be an awesome life coach but because there’s no doubt in Nadya’s mind that he means _every single word._

No, Adrian can’t be more than thirty. But when she fixes her glasses and looks him in the eyes he looks like he’s a hundred years old. Wistful and wanting and wise all at the same time. Nadya’s left feeling so small and so very very young when he takes his hand back.

Nadya tries to recover her composure behind the last bit of her latte but is left wanting; nothing but soy gone cold and somehow tasting of the bottom of the paper cup. He watches her thoughtfully all the while; even when she gestures to his empty cup and gets a nod in thanks when she drops them both in the nearest recycling bin.

She hasn’t even sat back down when Adrian abruptly asks; “May I see your resume?” And there’s no reason why not so she reaches down—

And remembers with absolute horror that her resume is on the clipboard. at her seat. in her spot in line. back where the interviews are.

“Son of a biscuit.” Well, there’s no use in rushing over there now. Even the cart barista has left for the evening long since arrived. Nadya looks around and takes in the practically empty lobby with a sinking pit in her stomach and a new story of failures to add to her list.

Somehow _“I didn’t get the job because a really nice, sweet, very-much-employed guy made me miss my interview”_ probably isn’t going to go over well with the landlord.

But she isn’t the only victim — if it’s any consolation. _It isn’t._ Adrian looks around with a _“huh,”_ of pleasant surprise and checks his watch. “Well Kamilah’s going to kill me,” because to him this is something worth _joking about,_ apparently, “but what else is new.”

“I should go.” _I need to go._ But she just slumps a little deeper into her seat.

He looks at her sympathetic; _good, he should feel bad,_ she wants to say but he doesn’t deserve that kind of spite. She shouldn’t have left the line. 

“Could I ask just one more question before you go?”

Nadya can’t help but want to start asking her own questions. Ones like why is he asking all these questions, why does he care, does this mean she can still ask him to vouch for her; all that jazz. She doesn’t though.

“Why did you move to New York?”

From the look on his face Adrian can tell he’s caught her off guard. “I just mean — like I said, Nadya, I’ve lived here for a long time. Met all sorts of different people with all sorts of different lives and histories and reasons of their own. Sometimes I think I’ve heard just about every reason you can imagine.” But even though he tries to laugh it off he definitely meant it, and he’s definitely interested in the answer.

“And…” she splutters a bewildered laugh, “and what, you think _I’ll _have a new one?”

He shrugs. “Maybe not new, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be interesting.”

“It’s not some heart-wrenching story —”

“That’s okay.”

But he’s serious. It takes Nadya a minute to fully believe him but he is, and she does. _Hope you didn’t get your hopes up too much._

“I was really scared when I graduated from college. School was… my whole life up until right then. And now people were expecting all these _things _from me and… and I’d never done any of them before. Suddenly I was facing _the rest of my life_ and I was starting it _terrified._ But I still had to do it; scared or not.

“So I figured it wasn’t a bad idea to try and get all the things I was scared of out of the way then. It seems stupid now…”

“Not at all.” Nadya looks up when she realizes she’s been focused on her hands in her lap and Adrian’s looking at her like he’s breathless. It’s weird, not gonna lie a little bit of a confidence booster, but also… well, scary. In its own way.

“And I’ve got this really bad habit of being stubborn, even to myself, so I just… said _go big or go home._ No place I can think of bigger and scarier than New York.”

For a second she thinks he’s laughing at her for being such a terrible cliche. But… he’s not. It’s just a laugh. _What else do you do when you’re happy?_

“Are you still scared here?”

“Every day,” but Nadya shrugs it off; just like she has for months now, “and one day I won’t be. Dunno when, or how, but I won’t be. So I should probably stick it out until then.”

“I’d like to see that day.” _You and me both._

But if he’s gonna sit there and be all charming and intellectual and _weirdly invested in her personal life journey_ then she can too. “What about you,” Nadya asks with just a teensy bit of cheek; which has Adrian laughing again but now she’s into the joke so let her roll with it, “wait — lemme guess — all the cobbler jobs were taken so you figured a fancy tech corporation was the next best thing?”

“Actually,” somehow his _one question_ has turned into… well into _this _but he’s nice and this building is nice and _why not, Nadya?_ “That’s an interesting story. My father took me to the city when I was old enough to help with my share of the work, you see, and —”

_“Adrian! Where the hell have you been all afternoon?”_

Every clack of her heels is like an ice pick to the tiles — Nadya’s glad she’s not the only one who flinches at the sound. Or maybe it’s the shrillness of the voice the shoes must belong to. _She knows that voice, actually—_

Because her life is a living nightmare Nadya looks over Adrian’s shoulder to see the woman from the hiring interviews marching towards the pair of them; face flushed and a stack of clipboards in hand and _oh god how awful would it be to ask to steal her resume back because printing them out at the library is such a chore?_

Nadya shrinks in her seat and prays not to be recognized — but Adrian seems used to such outbursts. He throws Nadya a reassuring smile (which totally works, not that Scary Interviewer would give her a chance to thank him) before turning in his seat to greet her face to face.

“Nice to see you too, Nicole.”

Nicole gives a long-suffering sigh and ignores Nadya’s presence entirely. She’s totally cool with that. “That doesn’t answer my question. I finished with interviews over an hour ago — and what did I return to?”

“I don’t know. But I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

“Three missed calls from Ahmanet, _no _signature on the Volenti files, and you still haven’t decided on which of the Red Site projects you want to endorse at next year’s conference. Which you should have decided _a week ago.”_

Adrian has the patience of a saint. Which comes as no surprise since he _did _just listen to Nadya’s ramblings for more than an hour for sure. He lets the woman get everything out of her system without even so much as a tick of the brow.

And has the _dumb _idea of gesturing to Nadya as a reply. “Nicole, have you met Nadya?”

She double-takes with the same concern she might give a leaf on the wind. “Miss Sayeed wants to move the meeting to her offices for the inconvenience.”

“Nadya was one of the applicants from earlier today.”

Okay — that works. Not that Nicole looks at her, now fully even in disdain, with anything remotely close to respect. She sweeps her eyes over Nadya; held frozen by the spite in her steely stare.

“I remember you. The Walk Out.”

_Is it hot in here or is she losing her nerve?_ “Well — actually I —”

Nicole cuts her off. “You _walked out,_ did you not?”

“I went to grab a coffee.”

“Oh, well that changes things.”

“Wait—really?” _Dumb move._

“Of course it doesn’t.”

Adrian clears his throat politely for their attention. “Nicole — I’m sorry for setting your schedule back.” She nods, though it doesn’t seem much like she’s accepted the apology. “I’ll worry about Kamilah, and the other things won’t take me more than an hour. I do have one favor to ask.”

It occurs to Nadya then that Nicole, who very much wants to say no—that’s obvious, _can’t._ Which is just weird since she doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who does favors for anyone.

“Yes, Mister Raines?”

Forget tomato red. All of the color drains out of Nadya’s face at once. And the reassuring smile Adrian tries to offer doesn’t do a darn thing.

_Mister Who-Now?_

“If you could go ahead and cancel tomorrow’s interviews I’d appreciate it. Tell them that particular position has been filled but they’re free to reapply for something similar under one of the division heads, maybe?”

“Why in the world would I —” If looks could kill Nicole would most certainly have sent her six feet under. “No.” Though this time Nadya has to agree. Probably the only thing they would agree on ever in the history of all time.

“No way.”

But Adrian just _beams._ “I just came down here to stretch my legs and grab a coffee. I had planned on sticking my head in for one or two of your interviews, Nicole, but —”

“We agreed it was best _I_ handle filling the position, _sir.”_ She grinds the word out but, to her credit, Nicole’s face is never less than cool and collected. “You haven’t seen her resume, you have no idea if she’s even qualified.”

“You’re half right,” he replies, “but I’m sure if she didn’t have _some _idea of what the secretary position requires she wouldn’t have even made it to the interviews, right? The rest of it, all that _‘business-y stuff’_ I’m sure she can pick up along the way.”

_Oh that’s not cool._ Not cool at all. Playing _Undercover Boss_ and then using her own words against her? Wait — why isn’t it cool? Why isn’t she jumping for joy and already trying to convince Lily not to spend money they don’t yet have on pizza?

Maybe because it feels a little underhanded? By some random luck she ends up talking with _Adrian Raines, CEO of Raines Corp_ over coffee and suddenly she gets the job over a bunch of _way more qualified people?_

But this is what she wanted. It’s the job. So why…

_Oh._

Nadya’s here for the interview but she knows there are people who want this job and have the experience to boot. Nadya’s trying to refuse the job she needs because that would mean something went right, and things going right never ends well.

She’s scared.

The loudness of Nicole’s departure startles Nadya out of her self-realization. She glances up and Adrian is still sitting there, albeit a little more humble than he looked just a moment ago. He has the decency to seem apologetic.

“I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself fully.”

“Why didn’t you?” Now it’s Nadya’s turn for questions.

Adrian shrugs. “These days Nicole is the only person who’s ever really honest with me here. Imagine her trying to hold back her opinion on something.”

“I can’t.”

“Exactly. But everyone else, even my own employees, they aren’t. Not entirely. I’ll admit, Nadya, when you didn’t know who I was, I saw a chance to allow myself a little sincerity. To be genuine with someone.”

_Joke’s on you,_ she thinks wryly, _I would have been this much of a mess anyway._

Still; it doesn’t sit right with her. “But don’t you realize that because you did that _you _weren’t sincere with _me?”_ And how could she work for someone who wasn’t honest with her? Who didn’t allow her _that _basic decency?

“I do now. And I understand if that keeps you from accepting the job. I didn’t sit down with you to interview you in secret, though, please know that.” And because he knows her question before she even opens her mouth; “You were on your own, nervous, and I wanted to help — if I could. I was telling the truth when I said you reminded me of myself.

“I say that because I think, if you were in my position, maybe you would have done the same thing.”

_I wouldn’t have lied,_ though it’s a bitter thought — and was lying by omission _technically _lying? Especially if it’s for everyone’s greater good?

Man her head hurts.

“Nadya…?”

She inhales with all of her might and nods. “One more question.” Which makes him smile — he appreciates the symmetry of it.

“Go ahead.”

“What made you decide to offer the job to me?”

There’s a little bit of pride in Nadya when he doesn’t have an answer right away. Adrian takes his time and really seems to mull it over — or if he’s doing it for show he’s _extremely_ convincing.

“I didn’t know what I was looking for until I saw it.”

Nadya can’t _not _roll her eyes. She can’t not smile though, either.

Finally Adrian stands and nods towards the sleek elevators at the far end of the lobby. “Should we go ahead and get the paperwork started? I can show you your desk, we’ll set up your number in the system — all quick things, really.”

It’s awfully assumptive of him, but she is standing and grabbing her purse so… is it?

“Bold of you to assume I’ve accepted the job, Mister Raines.”

“Please, call me Adrian.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **note:** fun(?) fact, that comment about the Bunsen burner was actually based on true events from my 3rd grade Colonial America unit in school. A substitute took over for a teacher who went on maternity leave and on the day she was supposed to teach one of the classes about colonial cooking (I... don't remember what exactly because why would you trust 8 year olds with an open flame?) she accidentally set her hair on fire.

**Author's Note:**

> Find out more about the _Oblivion Bound_ series at my writeblr: [jcckwrites](http://jcckwrites.tumblr.com/). I'm always accepting prompts and drabble ideas!


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